Plummeting Meteors
by not my daughter
Summary: Threeshot, of Lucius Malfoy's interactions with the Black sisters. Part three: Narcissa. "He felt more of a connection between himself and Narcissa than he had ever felt in friendship with Andromeda, or in a dark competition with Bellatrix." Complete.
1. burn in the shadows

The first time that he truly _saw_ her was at a Death Eater meeting, when she was inducted.

He was standing on the outer edge of the circle, watching as this girl approached the Dark Lord, her eyes blazing with a fervent kind of admiration that he had never seen before in anyone. It surpassed his own respect for the Dark Lord by leagues, and it was the first indication to him that Bellatrix was different than the rest of them.

Everyone looked different in these meetings, he had noticed: the quiet, meek boy in the corner was suddenly a force to be reckoned with, a natural with the Cruciatus Curse or the Avada Kedavra. He wondered what hidden talents Bellatrix Black would show if the Dark Lord accepted her into this circle.

She stood side by side with Rodolphus Lestrange, and now all eyes were directed toward them. The Dark Lord stepped closer to her, scrutinizing her, although his thoughts were unreadable.

"Why are you here?" he asked her coldly, and she raised her chin just a little bit higher as she answered him.

"To pledge my life to this cause," she said, her eyes never leaving his face, unrelenting. It was the sort of answer she was expected to give, but Lucius could tell the words were the plain truth, life stripped down to the core for her. She had heard from Lestrange what the Dark Lord stood for and she wanted to be a part of it, wanted to intertwine her own self with it.

It seemed almost like a test of wills between them, Lucius noted with wonder, as she continued to stare straight at him, drinking in the sight of him as if it were her life's blood. Lestrange spoke for her, as someone always had to for a new member. "She's serious, my lord," he said quickly. "She's dedicated, I promise. I swear you won't regret it."

He was only stating the obvious, really, Lucius thought, and apparently the Dark Lord agreed, for he never took his eyes from Bellatrix's face. The decision was made as soon as he saw the fervent passion bordering on madness littered casually on Bellatrix's aristocratically lovely features. "Will you take the Mark?" he asked, the way a new member was always welcomed.

Lucius expected to see triumph flit across her face, or even relief, but there was none, as if she had always known that she would be accepted, like there was no question about any of it.

"Of course," she declared.

"First," the Dark Lord said, signaling Augustus Rookwood to come forward bearing the prisoner, "we will test you."

She could hardly wait to draw her wand and speak the words, and it was only Lestrange's quick placement of his hand on her arm that stopped her from torturing the man at that very moment, with the Dark Lord's command or not. This was the real test, Lucius knew, and he knew just as well that Bellatrix Black would pass with flying colors.

"Torture him; you know the spell." The tide was rising, and a choice had to be made, but for Bellatrix he knew there was no choice.

There was no hesitation, and Lucius realized, with a chill, that the girl had no conscience. She said the word as if it gave her great pleasure: "_Crucio!_"

As he writhed, she _laughed_; it was a laugh like he had never heard before, vivacity and recklessness and power and triumph. She couldn't stop staring at her victim, and it was as if she had become drawn into the spell, become one with the torture.

There was no respite from it, and she would occasionally pull away, to let him think that it was over, and that death was coming, before resuming her task. Even for Lucius, sometimes seeing that momentary glimmer of hope was too much to bear, and he would end it then, but for Bellatrix it only made her crueler, more willing to extend the torture a few seconds longer.

It took the Dark Lord's intervention to finally bring the man mercy: "Now kill him." He was always looking for his members' weaknesses, to avoid sending them on missions where they would be a hindrance, and Lucius almost hoped that this woman – he couldn't call her a girl anymore, after what he'd seen her do – would show some trace of humanity: perhaps she couldn't kill.

She wasn't done yet, that was clear, but she followed the order. "_Avada Kedavra!_" she said, again pouring herself into the spell. She almost looked disappointed, that she hadn't been able to finish. Lucius wondered how much longer she would have continued if the Dark Lord hadn't intervened.

She looked darkly beautiful, all mercilessness and cruelty and anger, and he had never seen anything like it before. He had always considered her proud, headstrong, beautiful, but he had never seen the potential she kept in her for pain. She'll rise high in this world the Dark Lord is creating, he thought, almost more of a prophecy than a musing.

And now it was time for the Marking, to create an unbreakable bond between Dark Lord and Death Eater.

The Dark Lord drew his wand and began to draw the pattern in the air, the skull, the snake. With each movement, her skin opened, cutting the design into her arm, a permanent reminder of the commitment she had made tonight. But rather than pain, some grotesque ecstasy found its way onto her face as she breathed in deeply.

Lucius hadn't cried out when the Mark was burned onto his skin, but he knew that he must have showed some kind of revulsion on his face – every other new Death Eater had shown it, but there was nothing remotely resembling pain on Bellatrix Black's face. He glanced at Rodolphus Lestrange, who looked as if he had known this would happen all along.

After it was done, and she was bleeding, she did the most remarkable thing: she caressed her arm, like it had become a holy object when the Mark had been bestowed upon it. It was as if her arm was now child, mother, and lover to her. Lestrange was the only one who didn't look somewhat disconcerted, and he only stared at each of them, as if saying _I told you so_.

"You've done well," the Dark Lord said, tossing Bellatrix a glance, the closest thing to a compliment Lucius had ever heard him give anyone, before Disapparating away.

For several seconds, she watched the spot where he had just vanished from, like she could summon him back with just her longing. She wanted to exert torture, dominance, he thought, and the Dark Lord was her road to what she desired, and she would love him for it. Lucius thought she was even more dangerous than the Dark Lord, for he at least was in control of himself at all times. She would lose herself to her passion, and there was no reason behind her at all, only instinct. He wasn't completely sure that she was sane even now.

"You were incredible up there," he heard Avery said, as he leveled with her. Admiration was the prevalent emotion in his eyes.

She gave him a contemptuous glance, as if he was beneath her, and Lucius realized with some amazement that, despite having joined only today, she already had more rank than people like Avery, who had been a member for a year now. She didn't even thank him, because she didn't have to, as she had proven herself above that. She'll eclipse us all, he thought, another premonition.

Once most of the others had left, she stood with Rodolphus, as if she was unwilling to let go of her moment of glory now. He had no idea why he was staying around, why he was walking up to them, but he was.

He didn't know what to say as he approached her. He wouldn't make the same mistake as Avery, for who knew if she was above him as well? "You have excellent power, but you need to be more in control," he said, establishing himself already as the one giving advice.

She turned her hard gray eyes on him, one eyebrow slightly raised. "Why do I need control?" she asked. "I don't intend to be showing mercy to my enemies, Malfoy. Do you?"

With three sentences, she had already defeated him, and he had no retort to save face. "I only meant…"

"If we hesitate, if we show mercy, then we will be that much weaker," she said, cutting him off so that she wouldn't have to hear his – admittedly pitiful – explanation that he would make up on the spot. "And I will _not_ be weak, and I should hope you wouldn't be either. We need to be strong, to be ruthless, if we're to change things in this world. There's no place for _control_." She said the last word with biting contempt. It might have been his imagination, but he doubted it – he thought she was speaking of him when she talked of control.

He was too proud to admit she was right. "You have a lot of things to learn," he began, trying to regain the upper hand, but she rolled her eyes. Lestrange almost rose, drawing his wand, but she shook her head: whatever else she might do, she would not have anyone else fight her battles.

"So do you," she whispered, and it was only then that he realized she was rolling her wand between her fingers, an unsubtle warning. "You have no idea what I'm capable of, Malfoy. What I did today, that wasn't the full extent by any means. It would have gone on far, far longer if I'd had my way." She almost smiled, thinking of the pain she would have inflicted. "You can leave," she said casually, a dismissal like she was the queen and he a lowly subject.

Her wand was a threat, still resting in her fingers. He was quick, but she was already prepared, and he couldn't compete, not now. Gritting his teeth, he admitted defeat.

"Welcome to the Dark Lord's service."

She smiled at him, perfectly sweet, but the darkness in her eyes was clearly present, and he couldn't see how he hadn't ever noticed before. "Thank you."


	2. bask in the light

He couldn't ever look at Bellatrix the same way again without seeing her at that meeting and the way she had appeared at every other, filled to the brim with fanaticism, but he did look at her _more_, trying to see some of that insane release of control at school, to look at the people around her and see if they noticed.

Lucius had wondered where her conscience was when he had seen her at her very first Death Eater meeting, but after he had observed her for a few weeks at school, he realized where it was.

Her conscience didn't accompany her when she went on her missions for the Dark Lord, but it was there, in the form of her sister Andromeda. Where Bellatrix was dark, Andromeda was light, quick to smile and to laugh. She was just as beautiful as her older sister, but her beauty was warm and kind rather than cruel and malevolent.

He supposed it was that which made him desperately want to speak to Andromeda, to see if she had received any of her sister's madness, or if somehow when Bellatrix was born she absorbed all of the Black family's tendency to incline towards insanity. Bellatrix's sisters seemed perfectly normal and sane, but then Bellatrix had too, before he knew, despite being headstrong and bold.

Andromeda was reading in the Slytherin Common Room when he first spoke to her. He settled himself in the chair next to her, and tried to employ all of his charm that he prided himself upon. "Hello," he said, drawing her attention away from the book she was engrossed in. "I didn't mean to interrupt you," he said, although nothing could be further from the truth. "It's just, I wanted to talk to you." _That_ was true.

She raised one eyebrow, in the gesture that he had come to associate solely with Bellatrix, and he stopped himself from reacting to it just in time. "I've heard that you're really good at Charms," he began, "and I can't for the life of me figure out how to cast the Aguamenti Charm. Do you think you could help me?" It was true, but that wasn't the reason why he had come. It was pure, simple curiosity, about her, about her connection with her sister.

"Well, why ask me?" she said. "I haven't learned the Aguamenti Charm yet – ask someone in your own year." She reached for her book again, plainly irritated at being bothered by someone who obviously wasn't being honest about his reasons for talking to her.

"I thought you might know."

She seemed to be debating whether or not to speak further to him, but finally erred on the side of politeness. "I don't," she said. "But Bella might; she hasn't officially learned it in class, but she could help you, probably."

He didn't say that he would rather walk through a ring of fire than ask Bellatrix for advice, but instead shrugged. "Sorry for bothering you, then."

"No problem."

The silence was exceedingly awkward; Andromeda's hand rested on the book, drumming her fingers upon its surface, as if she wasn't sure whether she should return to it or not. He was just about to leave when she finally blurted out, "Do you know how to make a Shrinking Solution?" He wasn't sure if it was an attempt to break the silence, or whether she truly needed assistance. "Potions isn't my subject," she added as an explanation. "And I'm too embarrassed to ask anyone else for help."

"…and yet you ask me?" he said, nevertheless grateful for the topic and an excuse to talk to her.

She laughed, a musical, light sound. "Since you asked me for help, I think I can return the favor. It's slightly less humiliating for me." He could see that, despite her flippant attitude, she was just as proud as her sister when it came to asking for assistance.

"I do, actually," he said, beginning to describe the process. "You have to be careful so that it doesn't become poisonous," he warned. "It'd be better to start over if you're not sure."

"I'm really careful about that kind of thing," she admitted.

He spoke without thinking, and instantly regretted it, but the damage was done. "Really?"

Immediately the relaxed atmosphere became awkward again, as she straightened in her chair to fix him with her most scrutinizing stare. "What do you mean?" she asked, but it was clear that there was no clarification necessary.

There was no option but to tell the truth. "Your sister just doesn't seem like someone who would be that careful," he said, reluctantly. "Not that that's bad," he added, unsure of how close the sisters were. "It's just different from you, apparently."

To his extreme relief, she smiled. "You know, I _am_ a different person than my sister," she remarked, and he grinned. "I know, you never would have guessed, right?"

"No, never."

There was a pause, but it was relaxed, and he felt comfortable until she spoke. "You know, I didn't think you would be like this," she said bluntly. Lucius wasn't sure whether this was something she had in common with Bellatrix or not: Bellatrix could be brutally honest, when she needed to be, but she could also lie with ease. And for some reason, he couldn't see Andromeda lying, not unless it was terribly necessary, in which he thought she might do whatever was necessary. She _was_ a Slytherin, after all.

"Like what?"

"Bellatrix always said that you were an arrogant bastard," she said, but there was laughter in her voice. "And 'pompous pretty-boy' got tossed in there sometimes, too."

His pride hurt a little, but other than that he wasn't terribly affronted: he hadn't expected Bellatrix to speak well of him, given how she had acted toward him during every Death Eater meeting, the only real places where they interacted. Sometimes he felt that those were the only places that she could act like herself, truly, without the confines of what was expected of her.

"Ouch," he said, playing up the insult's effect on him, but couldn't resist adding, "but do you think she's wrong?"

Although the question had been light-hearted, she seemed to take it seriously, thinking about it. "I don't know," she said finally. "I don't think I've figured you out completely yet."

"I pride myself on that, actually," he said, and it wasn't wholly a lie, and she saw that, grinning.

"Well, maybe she wasn't _completely_ wrong…"


	3. find a way to survive

_Author's Note: Incidentally, while the other two parts are (time-period-wise) set closely together, this takes place several years after the second chapter. This was really fun to work on, I hope you enjoy the last installment!  
_

* * *

He couldn't believe what Andromeda had done; he had known about her friendship with the Mudblood boy, and had sometimes suspected there was something more, but never would have thought she would leave all that she knew behind for him. For a moment, right after he heard the news, he thought that maybe there was more of Bellatrix's recklessness in Andromeda than anyone, including him, had ever guessed.

But he and Andromeda had been close friends, despite the age difference, and it was impossible to comprehend that now it was no more, that any further contact would cause him to be shunned as well by society and was thus unthinkable. It wasn't that he wouldn't miss Andromeda; he would, terribly. But he could never be happy as an outcast, with her, and she would understand that.

He wondered if he should chance one meeting with her, to warn her of the wrath her elder sister bore her that Bellatrix could not hope to conceal, even in public. But Andromeda would already know that, he reasoned. She'd never had any pretensions about Bellatrix.

On some level, he understood why she had done this. He, too, occasionally felt the bonds of societal expectations close around him like prison chains, but he knew better than to break them. Staying within these bonds, and not chafing against them, were what gave him power, and he wouldn't give that up. That he could easily explain to anyone who asked, though no one ever would; no one ever saw it.

What he couldn't explain was why _he_ felt betrayed.

There had never been any semblance of a romance between them; they had danced at balls together, but the lines between friends and anything more were firmly drawn, and they had never even come close to crossing them. Yes, there had been that time a year ago when he had leaned a little too close, his chin brushing against her cheek, and perhaps if she hadn't pulled away his lips might have found their way to hers, but that was under the influence of alcohol, and therefore couldn't be trusted.

Druella Black had come to his mother for comfort, and although he felt he should say something reassuring, since he and Andromeda _had_ been friends, he had no idea what to say to her.

"Lucius?" He knew he had heard the voice somewhere, but he couldn't place it. Turning his head to look at the source, he saw Andromeda and Bellatrix's sister, Narcissa, standing in the doorway of the room he was in, looking nervously inside. "Can I come in?"

He nodded, and couldn't help but examine her as she walked into the room. There were no traces of tears on her cheeks, but then he wouldn't expect her to cry. Crying over a traitor would be considered weak by the unwritten rules of the Blacks, and really the rules of pure-blood society as a whole.

He had always thought she was in some ways more beautiful than both of her sisters, but she was so untouchable that she gave off an unapproachable air that she might not even have been aware of. She must be sixteen now, he realized, noticing for the first time that she was the same age as Bellatrix had been when she joined the Death Eaters. Did Narcissa lean toward that side as well, or was she content to stay on the sidelines?

He hadn't said a word, and he realized that might be making her uncomfortable, so he gave a bitter smile. "Have you talked to your sister, afterward?"

She shook her head. "Have you?"

"No."

She stared at the floor, musing aloud unrestrictedly as if there was no one else there. "I should, I know, but I'm afraid. I should have the courage to, but I don't."

And suddenly, as soon as Narcissa said the word 'courage' Lucius knew _exactly_ why he felt betrayed: because Andromeda had had the courage to break free, and he hadn't. And courage wasn't something that a Slytherin should necessarily value, but he did, and he couldn't stand being the coward in this situation, however much he told himself that he was content where he was, that this was where he needed to be.

The realization was too great to keep to himself. "I sometimes wish I could do what she did," he said, a secret that he knew she would never tell. She had given him one of her own earlier, that she felt regret over the sister – the traitor – that left. They would not, could not, betray each other.

The look on her face was pure, simple wonder. "Why?"

"Because sometimes, I do want more." He would have thought voicing these sentiments would be unwilling, but he was surprised to find that he wanted to tell her this.

She met his eyes, and he saw that while Andromeda's and Bellatrix's eyes were gray, Narcissa's were actually a pale, sharp blue. "I thought it was just me," she confessed. "But I can't leave, I can't even imagine leaving." She chewed on her lip, in what he would later discover to be a habit she would turn to whenever stress or worry hit her. "I suppose I could be like Bellatrix, escaping through what she does…"

"You know about it?" he asked, incredulous despite himself. He would have thought that Bellatrix would keep such information to herself, however strong a bond there was between sisters. Bellatrix could be careless, but her devotion to the Dark Lord was such that she would never do anything that would possibly take her away from him. Her pure fanaticism did not even shock him anymore; rather, he had become used to it, and that, he thought, might be even more disturbing.

The smile on her face was indescribably sad. "How could I not?" she asked, a question for a question.

"I'm…one of them," he said. "And it doesn't help with the yearning, not really." It was strange, releasing all these hidden truths and secrets, and receiving some in return. Lying didn't even seem to be an option here, it was simply forbidden here in this forum of truth and trust. It felt good, to unburden himself to someone who understood, when he thought he was alone. He would have gone through it, of course, but he hadn't imagined how relaxing it would feel to pass away some of the secrets he carried, heavy and poisonous as lead.

"Oh," she said, pensively. After seeing what her sister had become, he would have expected her to snap at him, look disgusted or repulsed, but she surprised him by nodding, and he thought that she understood what he knew: that there was a right and wrong way to go about pursuing one's beliefs, and the road he was taking was the right way.

She hesitated, unsure whether or not she should ask him a question that could possibly be impolite, but his gaze was encouraging, so she continued. "Would you ever leave?"

"No," he said. "This is where I belong, whether I like it or not." He hesitated, wanting to keep the record straight. "And I do like it, most of the time. There are just times when..."

"That's how it is with me as well," she said quietly.

He thought of Bellatrix, living in the dark, and Andromeda, in the light, and thought that Narcissa must be somewhere in between, unsure where she belonged, just like him. And in that second, he felt more of a connection between himself and Narcissa than he had ever felt in friendship with Andromeda, or in a dark competition with Bellatrix.

He wasn't sure if he should, but he decided to follow his instincts, the way Bellatrix did, the way Andromeda had proved she did as well. He reached out his hand to take hers, and for some reason he had expected her hand to be cold, but it wasn't: it was as hot as fire, and her fingers curled around him, holding him to her. "We'll just have to endure it together," he murmured.


End file.
